


But What Sweet Heaven

by mishaminion69, sydkn3e



Series: Sweet Boy [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas POV, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Flashbacks, Flashbacks to Sweet Boy, M/M, Pet Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 06:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19167649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishaminion69/pseuds/mishaminion69, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydkn3e/pseuds/sydkn3e
Summary: Castiel reflects on the way his life changed upon meeting Dean as they prepare for the next chapter of their lives.





	But What Sweet Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Also, Lauren is coming to visit me in a month so we'll have the rare opportunity to finally take some photos together! If you're interested in seeing us you can follow us on Twitter! @sydkn3e and @caslovesbees

It was difficult to not think of the first time he ever noticed Dean’s submissive nature in moments like these. Beautiful Dean, pliant under his hands, skin smooth and bright the way a man in his mid twenties should be. It was only another thing that reminded him of the age Dean so ultimately insisted wasn’t a problem. He didn’t care; Castiel knew that.  _ Cas _ was the one who cared.

But this, today...it blurred their previous-set lines. Dean had never been one for humiliation, but this was about as close as he’d ever be. And it’d been  _ his  _ idea. 

As submissive as Cas had always found him, he’d never imagined he’d one day have him like  _ this. _

Wearing only a pair of panties- one of Castiel’s favorites, with black sheer lace in front that gave the most perfect glimpse at the curve of his husband’s cock- and a collar attached to a matching leash that Cas had twisted around a hand. He was stretched out under Cas’s hands, across his lap, nuzzling his thigh innocently. Cas smiled down at him, chest swelling with adoration. It was something he’d  _ almost _ gotten used to after five years of marriage.

He cleared his throat and slid a hand up to tighten in Dean’s hair. “You’ve been a very good boy for me today, Dean. You know how I like to reward good behavior.”

Dean did the one of the few things he was allowed that day- he whined softly, turning his head to look up at Cas. 

Cas relaxed his hand and stroked Dean’s hair, the inner conflict he constantly fought subsiding as he looked into his husband’s eyes. That urge he often got to hurt his Subs when he was Domming, although very good at controlling it, all fell away when he looked at Dean. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt Dean...even if he was begging for it. 

Truthfully, the boy calmed his soul from day one.

 

####  **_January 24th_ **

####  **_Dean’s 18th birthday_ **

It wasn’t a big deal. After all, it was just a check. For a good purpose. The money didn’t really matter, anyway. 

That’s what Cas told himself anyway, as he drove away from the Winchester house that morning. John Winchester had come to him the afternoon before to request to leave work a few hours early the next day. It was his son’s eighteenth birthday and he wanted to pick him up a cake and go have the car detailed that he planned to gift him. He seemed excited. It was touching.

But that conversation transformed into one about Dean being able to drive the car back and forth to the shop and show it off to the customers as a testament to what he could do under the hood, and all Cas could think was:

_ I’ve spent a total of two hours with your son and I know him better than you do. _

But of course Cas agreed, and they shook hands, and John was barely a foot outside his office door before Cas was pulling out his checkbook and almost mindlessly addressing a check to  _ Mr. Dean Winchester. _

He almost turned back to retrieve it twice before he hit the highway, and once more before parking his car at the office. 

It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t weird.

John’s truck was already in its usual spot.

Cas looked in the mirror, straightened his tie. He swallowed hard, rolled his shoulders back, and got out of the car.

\----

Cas was a textbook overthinker. It was why he was so good at his job, really. He thought of every possible outcome for any given situation. It made spontaneity very difficult for him and it turned out that included writing a fat check to a boy he hardly knew. 

Sleep that night was clearly impossible. He’d tried to pass out at around 10- early for him- and tossed and turned for nearly an hour. Perhaps it had been a hasty decision, giving Dean that check. What would John think? Has Dean even showed his dad the check? There were a million ways this could blow up in his face.

He’d half expected Dean to call or even text. He knew the boy had his number. At least, he’d given it to him a while back. But nothing came and Cas had grown more anxious by the second. Luckily, work was a good distraction. But here, at home, he had nothing to take the edge off. No Sub to dominate. He hadn’t had a proper Sub in years and that familiar feeling to  _ hurt _ something was starting to creep up on him.

With a frustrated growl, Cas had finally thrown the covers off and jerked on a pair of sweats along with a plain black t-shirt. He grabbed his phone and earbuds and stomped downstairs. Perhaps exhausting himself on the treadmill would quell his anxiety long enough to fall asleep.

He kept going long after the muscles in his thighs started burning and he was struggling for breath, and even then a loud, persistent sound interrupting his absurd workout was enough to irritate him. He ripped one of the earbuds from his ear and slowed the machine to a walk, listening intently. The sound started up again seconds later, loud pounding on the door, long past what anyone would consider a polite amount of time, if they didn’t already take issue with the hour.

Cas frowned and turned the treadmill off, stomping up the stairs at the same time that the doorbell began to chime. 

Once. Twice. A third time.

He rolled his eyes and fanned his shirt a little, dropping it as he reached for the doorknob, preparing himself to give whoever the hell was on the other side an earful. He took a deep breath and opened the door-

And suddenly the only thing on his mind was, surely coincidentally, the only word he could verbalize at the moment.

“Dean?”

The kid looked about as uncomfortable as Cas was off-guard, but he straightened to his full height- now and impressive inch or two taller than him- and held a balled-up something out in his hand. His frown looked almost sculpted on.

“Why did you send me this?”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean’s hand, immediately recognizing the goddamn check he’d been stressing about all day. He swallowed and looked up at Dean with a hardened expression, fighting the urge to apologize or take it back or maybe...almost even entertaining the idea of begging him not to say anything to his dad.

Instead, he played dumb.

“It’s your birthday.”

Cas could almost see Dean fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“People don’t just  _ give  _ people they barely know over twenty grand for their birthday.”

Yes, all very true and one of the many reasons Cas was currently drenched in sweat. While Cas’s brain worked quickly to find a decent retort to this, he couldn’t help but notice- fleetingly- that Dean’s eyes were a very vivid green when he was fired up. Stunning, really. Cas had to blink to break their spell and smiled slowly, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. Casual. Calm.

“I think if one has the money, they’re inclined to spend it however they wish.”

This seemed to give Dean pause. His eyebrows furrowed- adorable- and he frowned with clear annoyance that gave Cas a fair bit of amusement. It was kind of fun, riling the boy up. 

“What the hell you doin’, anyway?” Dean barked, narrowing his eyes. A challenge. A spark in his eyes. Cas liked it.

“Running,” he said smoothly.

“...it’s midnight.”

Cas felt the urge to smirk. “Yes.”

Dean waited a beat of which Cas remained perfectly still and silent, watching the boy curiously. Dean huffed and rolled his eyes. 

“What are you doing running at midnight?”

Cas shrugged. “Helps me sleep in times that I’m particularly wound up. I might ask why  _ you’re  _ driving to my house at midnight, if you’re so concerned with the time.” Half-truth; not a lie but certainly not the whole story. And a change of subject, one he was sure would throw the boy off. It was clear that Dean had no real plan when he came out, most likely out of a fit of pure emotional response. Passionate, a little reckless. Cas liked that too. Cas  _ knew  _ that. He’d molded it, shaped it.

Many times before.

“I-”

Something briefly gave Dean pause, and he seemed to dismiss the line of conversation and switch gears. The transition was fascinating. 

“Look, I can’t take this, okay? It’s just...it’s too much.”

“Hardly,” Cas answered easily, truthfully. “It’s an investment.”

“An...investment.”

Cas resisted the urge to chuckle. “Yes.”

Dean stared at him as he lowered the hand with the check. “You’re not gonna take this back, are you?”

Cas smiled. “No.”

“Dammit.” The boy stuffed the check in his pocket, giving a look around. “You know, I could just rip it up.”

“True, but you won’t.”

Dean’s gaze snapped to him.

“You’re smarter than that.”

“I’ll spend it all on stupid shit,” Dean tried, but honestly, the kid was a shit liar. That was good, too. It was extremely difficult to train Subs who have a penchant for lying. 

And he really needed to stop thinking of an old friend’s  _ son  _ in the same terms as his Subs.

“Refer to my previous statement.”

The boy made a disapproving noise and hunched in on himself, protecting himself against the cold. He shoved hands with slender tanned fingers in his pockets and rocked on his feet. His jeans were a little baggy on his borderline lanky frame, as well as the jacket and his boots looked honestly a little too bulky for him to comfortably walk in daily. His hair was cut short and spiked a little, keeping it off his forehead, giving Castiel a clear view of his freckles and those green eyes shrouded with sky-high eyelashes.

“It’s cold out. Why don’t you come in for a few minutes, and I can explain myself.” The words left Cas before he could properly consider them, and his subconscious was screaming at him to retract his invitation for the entire long pause Dean took before he agreed.

He told himself it was too late now as the boy warily stepped inside. It would be rude to turn him out and it  _ was _ awfully cold to be going without a jacket. Well, a proper one, anyway. What Dean had one could hardly protect oneself against the winter. Cas had to bite his tongue to keep from lecturing the boy. Dean was not his to lecture.

_ Yet _ , said a small voice. Cas quashed it immediately. 

“The way I see it,” Cas started as lead Dean to the sitting room, “giving you that check is doing nothing but investing in your future. A future you might not see, but I can see very clearly.” 

Dean’s eyes bounced around the room as he gingerly sat down on the couch. He tucked his hands between his thighs, a nervous gesture that Cas found both fascinating and concerning. Did he make the boy nervous? That was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted Dean comfortable, relaxed. In fact, he’d never seen Dean relaxed before. The boy was always moving, working. Cas wondered, idly, if he could keep him still for a change.

“I can see what you think of yourself, how little your father sees of your intelligence, especially in comparison to your brother’s perhaps more obvious intelligence. Without help, without just a little  _ push _ , you’d let yourself believe you’re no better than that mechanic job that it’s painfully obvious to me that you do not want for yourself.” He paused, sighing. “I sort of have a...knack for recognizing a good investment, Dean. I firmly believe your education is a very good investment on my part.”

Dean frowned heavily at him, clearly not buying what Cas was telling him. “Why? What difference would it make for you?”

Defensive. Interesting. Cas tilted his head slightly and shrugged. “I don’t know the future. But I don’t see how investing in your intelligence could hurt me in any way, so why not? Besides, given your skills, maybe you could work for me one day. The industry is desperate for minds like yours.”

“You…” Dean rubbed his hands over his thighs, another nervous gesture that Cas was picking up on. He bit his lip and Cas had to squeeze the ankle draped over his knee to keep from staring. Those lips did not belong on an 18-year-old boy. “You’d want me to work for you?”

“Sure,” Cas said easily, without thought. He paused and rubbed at his chin. “Well. In a few years, after you’ve...ripened a bit.”

Oh.  _ Oh _ . He was blushing now, looking away, still chewing on that goddamn lip. Cas quickly backtracked to what he’d said and mentally rolled his eyes at himself. He hadn’t meant it that way...no, of course he didn’t. Absolutely not. 

Alright, perhaps it’d slipped out. Pure accident. Maybe a small part of him wanted to see the boy squirm. The sadistic part that Cas had no business showing Dean.

He should offer him a drink. It was only polite. A guest had been in his home for the better part of five minutes without one. Naomi Novak would have a cow if she knew her son forgot simple hospitality.

He stood and went to the bar, pausing only momentarily at the reminder of Dean’s tender age. John Winchester was always known to like a drink, and in fact, old Elkins had warned Castiel of his drinking problem when he’d taken over the business. Elkins insisted that John was a good worker, one of the smartest and hard-working he had, but that he had his demons, on top of two young boys he was raising on his own. 

Cas couldn’t remember if he knew that John had kids before he left.

Would it be safe to assume Dean had inherited learned behavior from John with regard to drinking? He poured a brandy anyway, crossing the room and handing it to Dean.

“Uh,” Dean said eloquently, “I’m not-”

` “If you’re old enough to die for our country, I don’t see any reason why you can’t have a drink with a friend.” Friends. That’s what they were. Sure. “Don’t play innocent with me.”

And there was that blush again. Jesus, his skin  _ really  _ turned a breathtaking shade of red.

Cas gave a small shake of his head, chasing that thought away.

Dean looked down as he sniffed at the brandy before taking a hesitant sip. His nose wrinkled in the slightest and he looked down at the drink that it had somehow offended him, and Cas breathed a small sigh of relief.

So not an alcoholic. A good kid.

“Besides,” Cas continued without missing a beat, “there’s no chance I’d allow you to drive home if I even suspected you wouldn’t be okay.” He took a sip of his own drink. “It’s just enough to take the edge off.”

Dean took another small sip of the drink, with less kickback this time. He shifted, fidgeted, crossed his legs, then uncrossed them. The room was uncomfortably silent. A slow smile formed on Cas’s lips as he watched him, but he quickly wiped it away before Dean looked up at him again.

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. “So, uh-”

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen you. You’ve grown.” Cas made a conscious effort not to seem creepy as he said it, even as he looked him over. No lingering stares. No lecherous leering. “It’s been...what? A year or so now?”

Dean was nodding as he fidgeted with his glass. “Yeah, thereabouts.”

“Mmm.” Cas took a sip of his drink, nodding. “And how’s Sam?”

Surely this part would be interesting. Dean’s interactions with his family were of particular interest to Castiel, but he was quite taken with the way the boy basically raised his younger brother in his father’s absence after their mother’s death. Cas remembered Mary; how sweet and plucky and resilient she was. She was made to be a caregiver. Dean seemed to inherit a lot of that from her.

Dean’s reaction was subtle, but still more than he expected. He was excited to talk about Sam- no...well, yes, but it was more than that. He  _ knew _ how to talk about Sam. He was  _ used  _ to talking about Sam.

“He’s, uh, good. You know, doin’ the Sam thing. Kickin’ ass and takin’ names at everything he does.”

Huh. Not even a sliver of resentment there. Not exactly what he expected either, then.

“-got a girlfriend now, too.”

“Oh?”

Dean kind of laughed. “Yeah. Jessica. Sweet kid, helps me keep him in line.”

Castiel raised a brow. “I didn’t realize he needed help in that department.”

“Oh, Sammy doesn’t break any rules or anything,” Dean said quickly, defensively. “He just...sometimes loses perspective.”

“How so?”

Dean looked up in surprise. They locked eyes. He swallowed, fidgeted some more.

“It’s just…” a sigh, more fidgeting, “Look. I love my brother. Spent damn near my whole life taking care of him and...I dunno, that might be part of the problem.”

Ahhh, there we go.

“He doesn’t understand the value of hard work.” A little off base he knew, but it would veer him innocently in the right direction. Dean was a little difficult to read, much like Yulia, but then, that’d been part of her intrigue. It certainly looked just as well on Dean.

Dean, who had an adorable pouty frown when he was concentrating. 

“Not...necessarily? Spoiled is the wrong word, but he’s had it easy, you know? Dad never really gave him any responsibilities and things were kind of handed to him. So when something doesn’t go his way, sometimes he can act a little...bratty.”

Cas  _ almost  _ chuckled. Almost.

But now it was starting to make sense. Mary is gone. John’s a drinker. Sam’s a typical selfish, bratty teen. Definitely at that age. 

_ Dean  _ was the caretaker. He was never a kid. Never in the way Sam’s been afforded, because of him.

Well, now.  _ That  _ was relatable.

Cas looked down at his drink, keeping his voice low and non-threatening. “I...noticed that. The first night your father invited me over.”

Dean watched him expectantly as he sat his drink down and leaned forward, his full attention on the boy.

“Sam had mentioned you cooked the meal, and then you cleaned everything up while he played his game.”  _ And John insisted we go to the living room for a drink since you were taking care of that. _

“It’s not his fault,” Dean said hurriedly, avoiding eye contact, fidgeting back again. Cas almost started thinking about how he could train that out of him…

“It’s just how dad did things. And he’s not  _ spoiled _ , he just-”

“You don’t have to defend him with me. I know Sam is a good kid, but I also think you’ve been pushed to the side for some reason I cannot fathom, especially since you’re seemingly his primary caretaker.”

“N-no, it’s not-” Dean was uncomfortable, and it showed. He downed some of his drink. “Not like that, really-”

“Why do you feel like you need to be the one to take care of Sam?”

_ Why did Gabriel feel like he had to take care of me? _

“Because I...because it’s my job.” Dean said it like it was obvious.

“But it’s not.”

_ Why do you do it? Why did he? _

Dean floundered.  _ “ _ It  _ is _ , I-”

“You’re only...what? Three years older than your brother? Four? It’s not _your_ job to take care of him. It was your father’s. And now he’s growing into a young man who can more than begin taking care of himself, and soon he’s not going to need you for anything anymore. And the idea of that scares the hell out of you. It’s also why you’re here tonight, arguing with me over money that you and I both know you want to keep, to go to a school you and I both know you want to go to. You can’t accept the help, because you never _had_ the help before. And if you take it now, you’re leaving your father and brother to fend for themselves.”

He knew long before Dean’s jaw clenched and his fingers dug into the armrests that he’d said too much, too soon, but he kept his expression neutral. Soft, even.

“That’s not...my dad, he’s not a bad guy-”

“I know that.”  _ Great, now you’ve done it. _

“So what are you…” Another pause, the switching of gears. It was so interesting to watch those wheels turn. The boys stood abruptly, cagey and prickling. Cas forced himself to remain calm, sitting back on the couch with an air of mild amusement. Pretending to be in control when in fact he was far from it. A sensation he was  _ not _ accustomed to at all…

But interesting nonetheless.

“Look, I didn’t come here for therapy. I came to give you back this check.” He thrust the now slightly crumpled check into Cas’s face, glaring down, those shoulders tense and those bowed legs ready to bolt.

Cas simply stared at it and shook his head. This boy was amazingly stubborn. And fiercely independent. Because he had to be. He’d been forced into it. Much like Gabriel had. 

Dean huffed at him, his face turning an attractive shade of red from frustration. Cas almost smiled.

“I’m not taking it back with me, so-”

“Then I’ll continue to rewrite it,” Cas said before he could even think about the words. He quickly realized they were true, though. He wouldn’t let this talent, this boy, slip away into nothing. He’d mold him, shape him into what he deserved to be, even if this molding wasn’t done in the den. “And I’ll continue to resend it. So why waste the effort?”

Instead of answering, Dean turned sharply and headed for the door. Cas quickly followed him, his mind reeling with too many thoughts. He’d said too much, pushed too hard, but dammit if only the boy could see what he saw. If only he wouldn’t shy away from opportunity.

_ I’m an opportunity _ , Cas couldn’t help but think. A purely professional opportunity, of course.

A wave of cold air hit as Dean opened the door and Cas found himself calling the boy’s name. Dean paused and turned, frowning in mild annoyance. At Cas or at himself? 

“What?” The word was bitten off and Cas let it roll, crossing his arms casually. All the raw emotion. The things he could do with that.

“When you’re ready to talk about your dad, about Sam, about...any of those things that weigh on your mind when you should be worrying about yourself…” he held out his hands briefly and let them fall to his sides, “I’ll be here. I’ve been told I’m... _ helpful _ , in situations like yours.”

Dean shifted, another nervous gesture. All the fidgeting. All that energy. “Helpful how?”

Cas paused briefly. He never should have said anything, but the words were out there now. The insinuation, the invitation, was there. Cas simply smiled.

\----

“Come here, baby boy,” Cas cooed, smirking down at his gorgeous pet. “Come here to daddy.”

Dean licked his lips from his spot on the floor, on his hands and knees as he had been for most of the day- with intermedial rests in between, of course. The collar looked wonderful on him and it brought a shiver to Cas’s spine every time he gazed at it. He had to admit, quietly to himself, he was rather possessive of his sweet boy. Any mark of ownership he could display stroked the sadistic, controlling side of him.

They were in the bedroom now. Dean had obediently followed him upstairs. Cas had gone slow so Dean wouldn’t feel the need to climb the stairs too hastily and hurt himself. Once in the room, Cas had unhooked the leash, silently giving Dean freedom to roam about. He’d sat on the bed, leaning back on his hands as he watched his pet crawl around the space. 

Cas was in awe of his husband. It was difficult to play the pet, but Dean seemed perfectly fit for it. He seemed to sink into the role with no trouble. Cas marveled at Dean’s capacity to please him in every way. 

Now Dean slowly crawled towards him, those beautiful green eyes wide and dark with lust, mouth hanging slightly ajar. Just looking at him must be a sin. Cas was bound for hell for sure. But what sweet heaven getting there.

Dean settled between his slightly spread knees, propping his chin on the edge of the bed. Cas reached down, stroking his hair, smiling as Dean hummed and leaned into the touch. Such a good boy.

“Ready for your treat?” Cas spoke lowly, raising a brow. 

Dean nodded eagerly, that gaze flickering just briefly to Cas’s crotch. Difficult not to notice, with it being right in front of him. The bulge was plain to see. Cas had been hard most of the day, unable to stop his body’s reaction to seeing his sweet boy in such a vulnerable, submissive state. Cas was just a tad bit drunk with power over it. He could tell Dean to do anything and his boy would obey unquestionably. 

It was intoxicating to say the least.

And it wasn't to say he wasn't also a bit of a masochist himself. 

Cas tucked strands of hair behind Dean's ears, petting him gently. He pulled back slowly, his hands sliding over his own thighs, giving one a pat. 

"Up."

Dean made his way up onto the bed and immediately into Cas's lap, with permission from Cas's outstretched arms. Dean settled down onto him, ass draped across his thighs, careful to not put too much pressure on Cas's straining cock. 

The back of the underwear were magnificent, especially trailing the smooth, tanned cheeks of his pet. Sheer lace cheekies, a smidge too big… at Cas's specific request. 

Cas slid his hand up the back of Dean's thigh and over the curve of his ass, fingertips barely disappearing beneath the edge of the thong. He walked his fingers underneath and pulled gently, prodding, circling…

Dean let out a whimper. 

Keeping his composure with his sinful husband proved to be more and more difficult the longer they’d been together. Dean knew every little button of his to push, how far is too far in terms of his general brattiness, the things that would drive Cas absolutely wild with lust. He worked within the boundaries set by Cas to push his limits, and damned if Cas couldn’t do anything but be impressed by it.

Dean very intentionally shifted against Cas’s cock and moaned- a bit of a show- rubbing his own hard cock against Cas’s thigh. Cas gave his ass a quick swat, raising goosebumps on the skin, then squeezed hard, leaning down close.

“Don’t spoil it,” Cas warned, fingers making their way back into Dean’s hair, pulling lightly on the strands. “You’ve been so good, baby. I’m so proud.”

Dean gave a contented hum and laid his cheek on the bed, looking back and up at Cas. The ring on his left hand glinted as he slid his hand up the bed, fisting it into the sheets.

It was a strange feeling, still, looking at his beloved husband he would kill to protect, and thinking of all the ways he wanted to cause him physical pain. Not enough to last, not enough to overshadow the pleasure, but enough to send him into the spiral of orgasm that required special care to pull him back out of.

“I know you want my cock,” Cas continued, stroking Dean’s hair, “and while you’ve more than earned it, I’m not quite ready to be done with you. I want to play a game.”

Dean raised a brow.

“Mmm,” Cas nodded, gently scratching the top of the boy’s head. “The books we’ve read over the past couple of weeks? I’m going to ask you ten questions. For each one you get right, it’s one step closer to getting my cock. For each one you get wrong, you’ll get a spanking. And if you answer more wrong than you do right, you won’t get my cock at all. Do you understand?”

Dean swallowed and looked like he wanted to argue, but he nodded instead.

“Good boy. Now,” Cas slid his hand back up Dean’s backside, under the lacy back. “These are all things you’ll need to know before the paperwork goes through. I’m lifting the ban on your talking for the purpose of the game.” He leaned down slowly and kissed Dean’s shoulder blade. “If you can’t answer at least most right, then we shouldn’t be doing this at all. But I have confidence in you, baby. I know you know your stuff.”

Dean squirmed, inevitably, humming contentedly when Cas gave him a half-hearted swat on the ass. The boy enjoyed pain way more than he had any right to. It made Cas weak.

“Question number one. How are the bottles heated?” He flattened his hand on Dean’s ass cheek, preparing to swat if necessary.

“On the stove,” Dean managed, his voice a little hoarse from disuse.

Cas tilted his head, considering his answer. “Be a little more specific.”

“Put the bottle in a pot with a few inches of hot water for no more than fifteen minutes.”

“Boiling water?”

“No, daddy. Just hot.”

Dean watched with wide eyes as Cas carefully lifted his hand, looking up at him and finally,  _ finally _ giving him a smile before lowering it gently and kissing his shoulder again instead. “Good boy.”

He earned a shiver from Dean as he stroked his fingers teasingly over a smooth ass cheek, tugging at the panties.

“What is the technique called of wrapping an infant that helps them feel secure as-”

“Swaddling.”

Cas brought his hand down as more of a reflex than a conscious decision, and Dean yelped.

“For your impatience. Lucky for you, you were correct. And since you’re so fucking adorable…” Cas conceded as he looked down to see Dean, red-faced and excited, innocently nuzzling the comforter, just barely canting his hips. “I won’t count it as a wrong answer. Two and zero, you’re up. Let’s see if you can keep it up.”

Dean moaned, a little deeper, a little manlier than he had years before, early in their relationship. Cas adored it. But then, Cas adored everything about his husband, going far beyond erotic sounds, the beautiful flush of red on his skin, and his penchant for pain.

“Approximately how many diapers will be used in a week?”

Not exactly one’s idea of sexy talk, but Dean didn’t seem to mind. He did pause, though. Unsure. Cas could barely contain the excitement.

“Fffff...ifty?” Dean asked.

It was a good smack, right on the opposite cheek, and he could tell Dean was half expecting it by the way he tensed up. Cas squeezed the cheek hard and Dean dutifully relaxed, groaning as he bumped his forehead against the mattress.

“At least seventy,” Cas corrected, massaging the pink skin. “Which is why we should really reconsider cloth diapering.”

He was actually surprised when Dean didn’t argue, dedicated to his role, perhaps even beginning to slip into that subspace. Soon his voice would dip, he’d slur and his eyelids would droop. This was the first sign that Cas was doing his job right.

After all, the first time they’d talked about diapering, Dean argued for  _ hours  _ about how disposable diapers would be easier, less mess, and- in his mind- more desirable for their child. Cas argued that cloth diapers were less expensive- where Dean had argued back that they didn’t have to worry about money- and better for the environment, to which Dean had argued that Cas driving a Prius didn’t negate the effects of his cigarette smoking on the environment. Which led to an argument about him smoking when the baby comes, and his health, which led to Cas comparing his diet to Dean’s “refined” palate of cheeseburgers, beer, and pie.

In any case, Cas was down to less than half a pack a day. 

Point is, it was a miracle that Dean kept his mouth shut.

“Two and one. Don’t fall behind.”

Dean squirmed, a low frustrated growl rumbling in the back of his throat. Cas raised a hand in warning and the boy immediately stilled, save for his cheek rubbing continuously against the sheet. Little teasing minx. The boy so loved torturing him. 

“Should the baby sleep on their front or back?”

Dean licked his lips. Cas followed the movement. “Back.”

Cas’s hand hovered. “Why.”

“To help prevent sudden infant death syndrome, or cot death.”

Cas smiled and squeezed Dean’s cheek, spreading it briefly to get a glimpse at the glistening hole hiding just underneath. He’d been applying lube continuously throughout most of the day, casually fingering his pet while he worked or watched tv. To keep his boy supple, loose, and wet.

“How much will baby eat each day?”

Dean paused here and Cas smirked, spreading his palm out. He watched the muscles underneath his hand tense and twitch, the pink skin looking delicious against the strap of the thong.

“How old is baby?” Dean asked quietly.

Cas hummed. Good boy. He didn’t jump the gun on that one. “Let’s say...6 months.”

Dean swallowed. “8 ounces, every 4-5 hours.”

Cas nodded and stroked up and down Dean’s ass, tracing the beautiful curve lovingly. “You’ve done so well, sweet boy. I know I was a bit...meticulous about your reading schedule-”

He heard a faint snort and popped the boy’s ass for good measure. Dean yelped softly and squirmed again, the head of his leaking cock pressing into Cas’s thigh. He ignored it completely and went back to caressing the pink skin of Dean’s cheeks.

“But,” he continued quietly, “I admit, I wanted to see how serious you are about adoption. I still feel that we could wait another year or two. You’ve only just gotten your own life, away from taking care of everybody. I wasn’t sure if you really wanted to commit to a child…”

It was the half truth. He and Dean had been discussing the possibility of adoption for some time now. Despite his submissive qualities, Dean was a natural caregiver and confessed to him that he did in fact want children. Cas had been somewhat concerned that it was too soon, that Dean would grow resentful because his short time living his own life would be once again taken away by responsibility for another. But Dean had proven many times that he was more than ready to begin the process of becoming a parent. And he constantly expressed excitement over raising a child with him.

It was Castiel who was hesitating. 

Dean looked back at him, wiggling his hips ever so subtly. Cas chuckled and dipped a finger below, circling his rim slowly. 

“You’ve clearly proven me wrong,” he continued, tilting his head. “You continue to surprise me, sweet boy.”

Five more questions, five more answers. Dean ended with eight correct answers and two incorrect, but a total of five smacks, the extra for- Cas was pretty sure intentionally- being a brat. His backside was a gorgeous shade of red by the end, I defined handprint on one cheek. 

Perfection. 

Cas plunged two fingers unceremoniously into his husband, groaning at his sound of surprise, the way his hole clenched around his fingers. 

"Ah, ah, not yet," Cas said softly, withdrawing his fingers when he could feel Dean getting close. As it were, he was forming a nice wet spot on the front of his own briefs. He gave Dean’s ass a pinch and maneuvered him to his feet, pulling him down by the collar before sliding a hand up through his hair and pressing their lips together. 

Cas stood in front of Dean, their eyes meeting as Cas tugged his tie loose and unhooked his belt. 

“You may come whenever you’d like,” Cas said softly as he pulled the belt through the belt loops and dropped it to the floor. “And since you were  _ so good,  _ and I’m  _ so proud…”  _ he unbuttoned his slacks and let them fall to the floor, shoving the briefs down with them. He waited for Dean’s eyes to follow but he swallowed hard instead, blinking once, eyes trained on Cas’s.

_ Good boy. _

“...I’m going to let you decide how we come today. How’s that sound, pet?”

Cas waited. Dean just stared at him, eyes wide, expressive. Cas watched him expectantly at first, before breaking out into a smile and ruffling the boy’s hair.

“You can speak now, gorgeous. I’m gonna want to hear the sounds you make for me.”

Dean leaned into Cas’s touch, ultimately nuzzling his hand.

Cas’s brow ticked up. “Does that sound okay?”

“Sounds good, daddy.”

\----

“I don’t need to be taken care of, Dean!”

Cas glanced over his shoulder briefly as a dog began to bark into the night, no doubt roused by the shouting. He looked back at the brothers, hands calmly in his coat pockets, wind ruffling his hair. Sam stood, slightly unsteady and reeking of alcohol, facing Dean with clenched fists. Cas couldn’t see Dean’s face, but he didn’t need to. He saw the tense shoulders, the wide stance, the ever so slightly trembling hands. The boy was upset, livid, and just barely holding it in.

“God, you’re always throwing that in my face, about how you have to do everything for me so you can’t do anything else, and I never asked for you to do that! Stop blaming the way your life turned out on  _ me _ .”

That stung, Cas was sure. He pressed his lips together, stepping closer towards Dean. He had an overwhelming need to protect, to shield the boy, to step forward and fight this battle for him. Cas had never been much of a fighter, really, but more of a survivor. He knew how to take a hit and get back up. Knew how to shut his mind off, dull the pain out of sheer willpower alone. He also knew how to avoid unnecessary fights, when it was okay to run instead of ‘facing it like a man’. In any case, Cas had never been much for physical violence outside of his den. But watching Dean take this verbal abuse, watching his carefully constructed walls start to crumble, had his fingers twitching and his jaw clenching. 

He took another step forward, hearing Dean take a very deep breath. A calming one. He was still trying to keep some control.

“I don’t blame you-”

“Yeah you do,” Sam interrupted, taking a clumsy step forward, putting the two brothers just inches from each other. Cas thought he should maybe stop this, but was it his place? These boys barely knew him. Dean was not his to protect. 

“You talk all the time about how you have to do this or that for me, but then turn around and bitch because it keeps you from doing what you want. You know what I think, Dean? I think you’re just using me as an excuse because you’re too scared to actually try to do something for yourself because you might fail. You keep saying you want to do something with your life but you’re so fucking _ scared _ -”

Cas saw the punch coming from a mile away. It happened in slow motion for him. Dean tensing, raising his arm, fist formed, throwing it back with what Cas thought may have been restrained strength, the knuckles connecting with Sam’s face with an audible crunch. Cas watched this all with relative calm. He could have stopped it. He was close enough, strong enough to stop the boy, but he didn’t. Perhaps he should have. It would have been the responsible thing to do, as the adult in the situation. And far be it from him to condone violence.

But it was oddly satisfying. Sam was being...well, to be frank, a fucking brat. And yes, what he was saying may have had some semblance of truth, but this certainly not the way to discuss it. And it was plain that Dean had been holding in his frustration and anger towards his situation for a very long time now. And...well, Cas found himself warming to the boy. Again, the need to protect and care for so strong it was almost physical.

So he let the punch happen. Watched Sam stumble, blood gushing from his lip. Sam fell back on his ass, rubbing his jaw. Cas finally stepped forward, wrapping firm arms around Dean and easily pulling him back. Dean barely fought it, his chest heaving, jaw clenched so tight it must have hurt. 

“That’s enough,” Cas spoke into his ear, pulling him back even further. He steadied the boy on his feet and pressed a hand to his chest, looking back at Sam and extending his other hand toward him. “Are you okay? Do you need me to-”

“I’m fine,” Sam managed as he pulled himself to his feet. The brothers shared a glare before Sam slung the door open and disappeared inside, Dean only then relaxing in the slightest, breathing hard, fists slowly unclenching.

Cas was walking back toward him before he even realized it, frowning at the tears visible in the corners of his eyes. “Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean stared at a spot on the pavement for another few seconds before turning and starting toward the Impala, sniffing quickly. “‘M fine.”

Cas followed behind him, crossing over in front just before Dean could yank the car door open. He laid his hand over Dean’s, gently prying his fingers off the handle. The boy was rigid, defenses up, as Cas imagined they most often were. 

But Cas knew how to handle that.

“I’ll drive.”

He was prepared for argument, even using what he coined as his  _ Dom  _ tone, but Dean surprised him- as he hadn’t yet failed to do- and nodded obediently, walking around to the passenger’s side without a word. 

\----

“How’s your hand?”

“It’s fine.”

“Can I see?”

“It’s  _ fine.”  _ As if trying to prove his point, Dean clenched his fist as much as he could manage through the slight swelling. Cas sighed and pressed his lips together, sat down his drink, and turned to Dean. He reached out slowly, taking the swollen hand between his, and gingerly straightened each of his fingers into his palm. The hand wasn’t bleeding, save for a small smattering of what must’ve been Sam’s blood, but in the drive to Cas’s house it had discolored, the knuckles puffed out. It would need ice to bring it down.

He sat Dean’s hand flat on the sofa and got up, retreating to the kitchen and returning with an ice pack. He settled back into the couch and took Dean’s hand, laying it flat on his palm and pressing the ice directly onto the skin.

Dean didn’t speak, didn’t move, just sat and stared at the roaring fire.

Cas licked his lips. “You understand that Sam was just saying those things to hurt you.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, no shit.”

“What I mean is,” Cas murmured, ignoring the boy’s snippy tone. He had a right to be angry. Cas adjusted Dean’s hand, fiddling with the ice pack as he spoke. “It’s clear how much Sam looks up to you, and I do think he’s very appreciative of everything you’ve done for him. I can’t imagine how he wouldn’t be. But he’s a kid, and kids are-”

“Pricks.”

Cas huffed with some amusement, a smirk tugging on his lips briefly before he schooled his features. “Plainly, yes.”

Dean grew silent, seemingly lost in his thoughts. It was just as well, since Castiel was busy with his own. What he saw tonight further confirmed what he already knew. That Dean was stuck in a difficult, seemingly endless situation of being both caregiver and big brother. That his family was unappreciative and somewhat ignorant of the sacrifices he’s made for them. That Dean had a lot of pent up emotion, buried deep, ready to burst forth when his defenses were weak. 

John Winchester, whether he realized it or not, thrust his firstborn into one of the hardest jobs anyone can have. Someone Dean’s age should not be raising his baby brother and Cas knew that the boy had been at it for years now. Dean probably had very little childhood to speak of, his younger years spent taking care of his brother and, apparently, his father. That sort of thing could wear on anyone and it was taking its toll on Dean. The boy looked drained, strung tight, ready to collapse but too anxious to do so.

Cas wordlessly stood and grabbed Dean’s empty glass, filling it up again. He was reminded, once again, of Gabriel. His brother had spent the better part of his teen years raising Cas, taking care of him when their parents weren’t around to do so. It was unfair, but there it was. The only difference was Cas had been fully aware what was put upon his older brother, had seen how hard Gabriel had worked. Sam didn’t seem to notice how exhausted his brother was. A fault not entirely on him. He was raised to believe this behavior was the norm.

Dean took his new glass, immediately taking a small sip. The next sip turned into him tossing the rest back, coughing once. He looked down at his glass then back up at Castiel.

“What did you mean?”

Cas raised a brow.

“‘Bout...avoiding temptation.”

Cas looked down at his drink. He shouldn’t tell him. Best not to embarrass the boy, let him know that he was well aware of the torch he’d harbored for him, or that he knew about the incident in his bathroom the very first night they’d met. 

And most of all, he shouldn’t give him any indication that he’d only recently begun to imagine Dean in all sorts of ways he had no business imagining him in. Even if he was halfway sort of hoping- or rather, he supposed, daydreaming- that he could have Dean in that way. But Dean was only infatuated, and he was still so young, and there was no way he could expect someone like that to meet the needs he had...and anything else wasn’t an option for him. No matter how badly Cas wanted to take care of him. No matter how familiar the situation felt.

He drained his drink and stood. “You should sleep. You look exhausted. I have several guest bedrooms and I insist you stay the night, clear that head of yours.”

“No,” Dean shook his head, “no, I...gotta make sure Sam gets up and to school tomorrow-”

“So set an alarm.” Cas took Dean’s empty glass and tilted his head toward the kitchen, earning a small nod from Dean before he stood and followed. He heard Dean stop at the doorway as he crossed over to the sink and rinsed the glasses.

“He’ll wonder where I am.”

Cas turned to face him, shrugging in what he hoped was a nonchalant way. “He knew you were coming here. Besides, he’s probably already asleep.”

Dean held the ice pack over his hand, hand over his chest, and he eyed Cas suspiciously. “Why do you want me to stay?”

To Cas’s own surprise, the voice inside his head reflexively said  _ because I don’t want you to go _ , but he managed: “You’ve been drinking. It’s unsafe for you to drive.”

“Right.” The frown deepened. “And that’s it, then?”

_ No.  _ “Yes.”

Dean let out something akin to a laugh, looking down at his feet and shaking his head. “Yeah. Okay. Of course.” 

Cas licked his lips. “And Dean?”

It took Dean a few seconds to look back up, every millisecond feeling like an eternity. Cas shifted on his feet, braced his hands on the counter behind him, tilted his head.

“Probably best your father doesn’t know you stayed here. Wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

“O- _ oh _ …” Dean cleared his throat and Cas quietly sucked in a breath when that blush returned. He was becoming very fond of that blush. “Yeah,” the boy continued, looking away, and Cas could have sworn he seemed... _ disappointed _ . “Yeah. Wouldn’t want that.” 

Cas desperately wanted to go to him then. Wrap his arms around that still slightly lanky frame, kiss his head, stroke his hair. He looked so small at that moment, vulnerable,  _ alone _ . Cas’s mind wandered, briefly, and imagined that perhaps Dean wanted the same thing he did. Maybe he could be the Submissive Cas needed, and Cas could be the Dom Dean so clearly desperately craved. Even if he didn’t quite realize it. 

But no. No. He had to hold himself in check. His needs were intense, unorthodox, probably terrifying to someone so young and inexperienced. Dean was experiencing a crush and nothing more. It would pass once he realized there were much younger men out there for him. Men better suited and more his...pace. 

“That, uh, guest bedroom still upstairs?” Dean asked, that blush deepening. 

Cas smirked, memories still quite vivid in his mind. “Yes.”

“Awesome,” Dean said, already turning away. “I’ll just, uh, get out of your hair then.” 

He turned and disappeared up the stairs wordlessly, and Cas stood and watched him go, not pushing himself off the counter until he heard Dean reach the upstairs landing. He slowly made his own way up the stairs, down the hall, pausing momentarily a few feet outside of the guest bedroom door before retreating into his own room. 

He didn’t spend much time in his own room, if he was being honest. And Subs weren’t allowed.

_ And for good reason, _ he reminded himself as he stared at the perfectly made bed, sheets just barely turned down at the top. The last Sub he invited into his bedroom- the  _ only  _ Sub he’d invited into his bedroom- well, none of that had ended well at all. And the thing of it was, he’d  _ known  _ better. He had rules for a reason, and as organized and steadfast as he was about them, he was often the first one to break them. Even knowing they were specifically in place to protect both himself and his Subs.

The first and last time he’d invited a Sub into his bedroom, he’d promptly had his heart broken.

_ Situational attachment  _ was what Cas liked to call it- the relationship between himself and his Subs. It wasn’t  _ entirely  _ accurate, because he loved all of them in a very special way, the way only Doms and Subs could love one another. But that love was based on their organized and agreed-upon contract, and to the benefit of both of them, nothing more.

He sighed and leaned back against his door, giving his tie a half-heartedly tug loose as he closed his eyes and bumped his head against the door with a soft  _ thunk.  _ A loud thumping on the door behind him jolted him out of his thoughts, blessedly, and he stepped away and narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t give himself proper time to process before pulling the door open.

“Dean?”

Dean stood on the other side, staring past him, and Cas briefly followed his line of vision to the bed. He dipped his head to catch Dean’s gaze, tapping a finger anxiously against the doorframe. The boy was a little disheveled, and he looked up at him almost in a daze. Out of control of his own body.

Cas could fix that.

“Dean, are you alright?”

“Y- yeah, fine,” Dean said, even as he shook his head. “It’s just…”  
He was biting that goddamn lip again, tonguing it. Distracting as all hell.

“...what you said the other night, I think...I think I’m ready to talk. About dad and Sam.”

Huh.

Cas took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Yes, okay. I can help with that.”

“We don’t have to tonight,” Dean continued quickly, nervously clutching his hands and wringing them tightly. It was enduring, strangely adorable, how nervous the boy got around him. “I don’t want to keep you up or anything. I just...I dunno. I wanted to tell you that tonight...for some reason.”

Cas tilted his head, stopping himself from reaching out and taking those fidgeting hands into his. “We can talk whenever you’re ready to, Dean. It’s my job to listen, and as such, I will be ready when you are. You can’t always just  _ decide  _ the best time. Sometimes it just...hits you. This is just me, making myself available to you. For whatever you need, whenever you need it.” 

Watching Dean process things could be quite fascinating. The boy was extremely expressive, his face constantly morphing with whatever thought was going through his head. His eyes gave everything away. Every emotion, Cas could see plainly. There was immense curiosity, desperation,  _ yearning _ , and heat. Dean was staring at him with clear want and Cas couldn’t help but feel extremely flattered. Recently, he’d begun to feel his age somewhat. He was slowing down, just a bit, and he had more wrinkles and gray hair than he really cared to admit. It was a little surprising an 18-year-old would even be interested, but maybe his older age was part of the attraction. Perhaps Dean  _ wanted _ an experienced man, an authority figure of sorts, someone he felt could take control.

Castiel could definitely do that.

“What if…” the boy’s voice was dry, rough, nervous. His whole frame was trembling. “What if what I need is...you.”

_ Oh. _ And there it was. The confirmation Cas had been secretly waiting on, hoping for. Cas felt his desire spike, his spine tingle, his hands and cock twitch with anticipation. He forced himself to calm, to breathe normally, watching the boy intently.

“And what if when I need it...is now.”

It was wrong. It was  _ so  _ wrong, and there wasn’t a reasonable explanation for why despite that, Cas felt the strongest urge to take Dean in his arms again and protect him from all the bad things in the world. More of an instinct, really, and Cas was having a little trouble himself puzzling out why his mind was drawing upon the emotion it was, when it’d never given him anything but heartbreak in the past. 

But when he opened his mouth to shut it down, to say  _ no, your father and I are friends and coworkers and it would be wrong,  _ all he managed was Dean’s name.

“I need...need to get out of my head, Castiel,” Dean said shakily. “I need someone I can come to, some _ where  _ I can come to, where I don’t have to be the big brother or the responsible son. Because I think it’s slowly turning me into something I don’t want to be. I’m angry, and bitter, and  _ tired _ , and you...you may say they appreciate what I do, but I wish for once they’d show it. Not because they have to, but because they want to.”

Cas didn’t speak. He couldn’t.

“Tell me I haven’t imagined it,” Dean said finally, stepping in close enough to make Cas bristle, looking up at him through his lashes. “The way you look at me, the things you want for me, the things you’ve said... tell me I haven’t imagined that you want to be that person for me.”

Cas closed his eyes slowly, took a breath through his nose, getting a faint whiff of engine oil off the boy’s hair. It was strangely welcomed, giving Cas an odd swelling in his chest he was only used to feeling in the den when his partners performed well. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Dean didn’t know the whole story. He didn’t know anything about Cas, but especially that part.

“You haven’t.”

Even if a partnership was okay- which it  _ wasn’t _ \- and even if Dean knew about his lifestyle- which he  _ didn’t-  _ getting involved with someone that young was always a mess. Of course, people always made  _ assumptions _ , not to mention being mistaken for a dad more than once. He worked casual boyfriend duty with a couple of his Subs, and as one might imagine, parents didn’t know about their child’s particular lifestyle and therefore just “can’t understand why a beautiful girl like you would choose to be with someone her father’s age”.

Fathers, understandably, hated him.

Like they were expected to get married and have kids or something of the sort.

The very thought could turn Cas off now. But, even as all those thoughts were going through his head, he made his own decision- the  _ Dom  _ decision. That Dean would, ultimately and with all the facts, decide how badly he wanted help with his issues.

And Cas would, ultimately, go straight to Hell for his thoughts  _ alone  _ about his friend’s son.

_ His  _ **_legal_ ** _ son _ , Cas’s conscious nagged.

_ Barely,  _ something inside him retorted.

Cas shook his head, staring at a spot on the wall behind Dean. “But it’s more than that. There’s more- you need to know everything, before you make this decision.”

Dean frowned, confused. Of course he was. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Castiel paused, chewing on his lip, just as Dean was moments before. He was already picking up habits from the boy. He tread carefully, not wanting to spook Dean with too much information, but he needed to make sure Dean knew what he was potentially getting into.  “I need to make sure we’re on the same page. And if we are, we need to establish a few things, before...beforehand.” 

He sighed, feeling his shoulders sag with strange disappointment. How he wished he could drag Dean into the den now. Take him apart slowly, soothe all that frustration and anger, then put him lovingly back together. “But for right now...what can I do for you now? Do you want to talk? We can go back downstairs-”

“Yeah,” the boy said eagerly, almost making Cas smirk. “Yeah, I’d like that. But I need…” he looked away, blushing, this time in what seemed to be embarrassment.

“Need...what, Dean?”

“I just…” 

Cas frowned, stepping slightly closer, his eyes open and his expression soft. The poor boy looked like he was about to bolt any second rather than ask whatever it was he wanted to ask. That just wouldn’t do at all. If they were really going to do this, he needed Dean to trust him completely. Be comfortable enough with him to voice his needs without hesitation.

“I need you to touch me.” 

Cas’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Please.”

It was the unexpected confidence that  _ almost _ made Cas smile, but he licked his lips instead, composing his features. He reached up slowly, laying his hands on Dean’s cheeks, thumbs pressing in slightly on the apples of his cheeks, practically marvelling the magnificence of the boy’s eyelashes as his eyes fluttered shut. He stroked gently with his thumbs, giving Dean the chance to relax into the touch, surrender to it, and they eventually moved to his neck, finally pulling him into a tight embrace. 

Something about the way Dean so desperately hugged him back, even as he allowed himself to be cocooned in the hug, it gave Cas that chest-swelling feeling again, the one he had no business feeling outside of the den. He ignored all of the implications of that and pressed his cheek against the top of Dean’s head, tightening his already firm hug. He may as well have stayed there all night, for the way the feeling clung to him long after they’d pulled away.

\----

“You’re gorgeous.”

Dean tried and failed to suppress his snort, grinning widely and shaking his head. It was still better than his reaction in the beginning, still progress, getting better all the time. Cas knew all too well how difficult it was to admit those kinds of things to yourself.

“Think you’re breakin’ character,  _ daddy _ .”

Cas didn’t even give him the satisfaction of a spanking, smiling up at Dean as he straddled his waist, reaching back to lube Cas’s cock. “One should perhaps expect a little bit of character bleed from time to time, dearest. We walk a thin line.”

“I think you obliterated that line on day one,” Dean joked, letting out a low hum when he turned his hand  _ just right  _ and Cas groaned.

“T-think it mighta been scene...six? Seven? That’s not so bad.”

“Definitely not that long.”

“Enough.” Now Cas brought a hand down, fighting a smirk at Dean’s little jump. He squeezed his ass hard, prodded at his already-lubed hole. “You want in character? Be my good boy and ride me, just like you said.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Cas smirked, feeling that familiar sensation that always came around when Dean was being particularly bratty or submissive. Often times one right after the other. Only his sweet boy could manage that so perfectly.

Cas slid backwards on the bed, falling onto his back and lazily stroking his dick as Dean briefly surveyed him. The boy idly pulled at his thong, pushing it aside but not completely taking it off. Cas licked his lips as Dean climbed on top of him, slowly, taking his time as he settled each leg on either side of Cas and just barely brushing his ass against the hard cock waiting for him.

“Tease,” Cas muttered, grabbing Dean’s hips and squeezing.

Dean just smiled down at him innocently. Cas snorted softly with a shake of his head. His boy was far from innocent now. Dean was a mischievous Sub, one who knew just how to get under his Dom’s skin in the best ways. He knew Castiel’s tastes and how to exploit them. Knew that Cas loved it when he mewled and panted and whimpered, when he obeyed almost blindly, when he begged and took everything Cas gave him. Dean was by far Cas’s greatest strength, but also his greatest weakness.

Dean hummed, his thigh muscles tensing as he lifted himself up. Cas planted his feet, bending his legs, his thighs providing extra support. Something for Dean to lean back on, hold onto, while he rode like the star he was. When he dropped down, they both gasped. Cas arched, trying to bury himself impossibly deeper in that heat, making Dean bounce on top of him. Dean took it in stride, lifting up, then coming back down. Impaling himself hard and fast, reaching behind to grip Cas’s legs as he rolled his hips.

Dean really laid it on thick then, and even while Cas knew it was partially played up for his benefit, he couldn’t find it in him to care. Because Dean was riding him like he’d die if he stopped, eyelids fluttering, head tossed back, cock bobbing with each movement. The sounds he made were enough that Cas was sure Dean would feel embarrassed by it later, but fuck if it didn’t  _ do things  _ to Cas anyway. Dean moaned like he ached for it, like all he’d wanted all day was Cas inside him. He moaned in a way that made it impossible for Cas to just sit back and watch, deciding that whatever else happened that night, Dean would still be able to feel him long after they’d finished.

He gripped Dean’s hips roughly and helped bounce him up and down, faster, harder, at a bruising pace. Cas’s hips ached and he didn’t care, holding Dean still to thrust upward.

“ _ God,  _ I’ve waited all day to fuck this pretty little pussy,” Cas growled. It still sounded weird to him to say things like that, but he tried them out the first time with Dean just out of curiosity, shocked to find how positively the boy responded to it. If it was good enough to make his sweet boy come, he would find a way to say it without feeling too weird about it.

“ _ Y-yes, daddy,”  _ Dean managed, in this lovely state of euphoria that Cas actively sought out from him. He was still trying, bless him, but he’d become practically useless when Cas took over, holding mostly for balance onto Cas’s legs.

So Cas let up, handing the reins back over to Dean, folding his arms behind his head to attempt to keep them to himself. It was torture almost as good as the one Cas had just made Dean endure.

Dean took hold of his own cock as Cas came inside him, painting Cas’s skin with his release. As soon as his body would allow him to move, Cas rolled Dean over to his back, pressing him into the bed, a hand tangling in his hair as he crushed their lips together.

Dean poured himself into it, as he always did, never holding anything back from Cas. He opened up readily and Cas plundered, greedy and possessive and dominant. Dean fought him, only for a few seconds, because he was a bratty submissive and a mischievous husband, and he knew how to press Cas’s buttons. Eventually, though, their natural roles won out and Dean took whatever Cas gave. He was soft and pliant, wrapping his legs around Cas’s waist and lazily

rolling his hips because Cas was still inside and he knew it would make the man twitch. 

Finally, Cas pulled away and allowed them both to breathe. He gently pulled out and rolled onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling as he heaved in breath after breath. Dean hummed and latched onto him, arms circling like an octopus, legs tangling, his cheek coming to rest on Cas’s chest. Cas smiled and draped an arm over the boy’s shoulders, giving him a firm squeeze. Dean was a cuddle bear and, despite no longer starving for touch like he had been years before, had never quite broken the habit of seeking Castiel’s touch whenever they were in proximity of each other. Especially after a scene. Cas suspected the boy just needed the assurance, the gentleness. Not that he complained. That, among many other things Dean did, made Cas feel so incredibly  _ desired _ . A very good thing for a man his age, though Dean insisted he was still young and vital.

“I can’t believe you quizzed me,” Dean huffed after several long moments of comfortable silence.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t slacking off just because you’ve graduated.”

“Alright,  _ professor _ .”

“Shall I grade your work?” Cas chuckled, closing his eyes and sighing as he buried his fingers in Dean’s hair.

“Pretty sure my performance was a big fat ‘A’.”

“Mm,” Cas quirked a brow. “Little sloppy there at the end.”

He could feel Dean’s smirk against his skin, those fingers dancing along his torso. “Yeah, but you like it a little sloppy, hm, daddy?”

Cas chuckled. “A fair point.”

Dean hummed again and nuzzled his cheek against Cas’s chest. Cas sighed and slid his hand down to Dean’s waist, hugging him to his side. 

“For the record, you’ve made me quite confident in your abilities as a parent. Perhaps even a bit more so than me.”

Dean snorted. “Not a chance.”

“You underestimate yourself. I thought we’d discussed that?”

Cas knew Dean was rolling his eyes, but he didn’t have the energy to scold him for it. After all, he  _ had  _ been a very,  _ very  _ good boy.

He swallowed hard and kissed the top of Dean’s head, pointedly ignoring the tightening in his throat. “But of course, you excel at anything you decide to. Why should I think this would be any different?”

“ _ God,  _ Cas, you cryin’ again?”

Cas huffed a laugh, shaking his head. 

“Good, ‘cause if you make me start cryin’ I’m not suckin’ your dick for a  _ week _ . No exceptions.”

“You said that last time.”

“I  _ mean  _ it this time.” Dean craned his neck to look up at Cas. “Really though, what’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing,” Cas said sincerely, shaking his head, “I just...I think we’re ready. That’s all.”

Dean frowned. “Well, that’s a good thing, right?”

“Right.” It was a good thing. It was the  _ best  _ thing. It was what he’d always truly wanted, what Gabriel would have loved for him to have. It was as close to perfect as anyone could ever hope to get. 

He had the most perfect husband, who just so happened to also be the perfect Sub, and now he was getting the family he never thought would even be an option for him. Age be damned, he’d decided he was going to enjoy every second he got with his family without questioning why he was the one lucky enough to have it. He didn’t need to know  _ why  _ Dean wanted him over someone his own age, just that he did. He didn’t need to know  _ why _ Dean loved him, just that he did.

Just that he  _ does. _

Cas reached out and pressed fingers to Dean’s forehead, gently smoothing out the confused wrinkles. “I’m just happy, sweet boy.”

Dean looked up at him with a small frown for a moment before he sighed in that way he did when he’s decided to give up on whatever it was he was trying to figure out. It was usually Cas.

“You’re still just a cryptic as you were when we first met,” the boy grumbled.

“Mmm,” Cas lazily stroked Dean’s hair, the back of his neck, delighting in the small shivers it produced. Still so responsive. Fantastic. “I’ve been...reminiscing over our early years lately.”

“We’re still in our early years,” Dean snorted. Brat.

“That night you punched your brother,” Cas continued, ignoring him mercifully. He’d get punished later. “That’s when it all really started.”

Dean was silent for a second. “Huh. Yeah, guess you’re right. Maybe I should thank him for being such a di-”

“Boy,” Cas warned, his petting briefly stopping. “Be nice.”

Dean grumbled, but said nothing further. Cas resumed his light touches and the boy relaxed once again. 

“Why you thinkin’ ‘bout all that?” Dean asked, his voice slurring slightly as sleep pulled at him. He’d fight it for a while yet, too eager for his husband’s attention to allow himself to sleep through it.

“Just remembering,” Cas shrugged. “It’s like a movie. Watching it now, in hindsight, all the clues were there.”

“What clues?”

“That you would be my undoing and my remaking,” Cas spoke lowly. “That you would become everything. That I would stumble helplessly in love. That you would be utter chaos to my mind and my rules.”

“Seem to recall you breaking more rules than me.”

“Exactly,” Cas chuckled. “You compelled me to.”

“Oh sure, blame me.”

“Seems logical.”

“Ass.”

“The term is ‘daddy’ for you.”

\----

He always went to visit Gabriel when he needed to talk about something important, and he’d certainly utilized that generously over the past several months. Gabe knew all about Dean, all about the mixed feelings Cas was having over their relationship, over Dean’s issues with John and Sam and, most recently, his own guilt over their first scene. 

Except this time, telling Gabe hadn’t been enough. He knew exactly who he’d need to talk to.

He’d been standing there for the better part of an hour, hands in his trench coat, head cocked to the side. The area surrounding the gravestone was in surprisingly tame shape, but then, Cas supposed Dean frequented the grave. The way he’d spoken about her made Cas want to know her, too.

_ Mary Winchester,  _ the headstone read.  _ December 5th, 1954- November 2nd, 1983.  _

_ Loving wife and mother. _

_ Angels are watching over you. _

Something didn’t feel right...Cas sat on the ground a few feet away, crossing his legs, clasping his hands in his lap. 

Much better.

“Mary Winchester,” he said finally. “Mrs. Winchester. First, I want you to know, you have a magnificent family. You know that already, but...I’m new to this, and I just thought you’d be pleased to know. I don’t know much about you yet, but I have a feeling I will one day. Hopefully sooner rather than later.”

He thought about what Dean had told him only days earlier, about his mother’s death, his father’s failed attempt at saving her, the way he’d slipped into Mary’s role long before he was the age Sam is now. He cleared his throat, looking down at his hands.

“John loved you fiercely. He’s not an easy man to win over, I know, and  _ stubborn _ ,” Cas laughed softly, “so I’m imagining that you had the patience of an angel. He’s done his best with the boys, from what I can see. Sam’s a great kid. Smart. A little bull-headed, but I guess we both know who he gets that from.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting a smile. “And Dean, uh...I know you know Dean is special. Passionate, thoughtful, intelligent, empathetic, protective...I’ve never seen anyone more committed to anything than Dean is his family. He’s spent his whole life tryin’ to make John proud, tryin’ to make you proud. He doesn’t have to try so hard. I can tell you’re proud. You’d have to be.”

Cas swallowed hard. “I guess I just wanted you to know that...I’m gonna be there for him. In any way I can.” He looked back up at the headstone, wringing his hands in his lap. “I’ll...do whatever I can. To help him heal, to keep him safe...to make him happy. I just wanted you to know, Mrs. Winchester, that you won’t have to worry about him.”

The last line of Mary’s headstone stuck out to him and he read them over a few times. 

_ Angels are watching over you. _

A small smile tugged at his lips. 

“I’ll watch over him.”


End file.
